


Discipline Cuddles

by SquadOfCats



Series: Discipline Cuddles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, a smidge of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquadOfCats/pseuds/SquadOfCats
Summary: Their relationship is going well, but sometimes Draco says mean things about Harry's friends. Harry uses cuddles to teach him a lesson.





	Discipline Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbetad. I don't own these characters. 
> 
> This is mostly shameless fluff. The rating is for brief mentions of sexy times and inappropriate jokes about house elves.
> 
> The idea for this fic came from something I do with my cat. Whenever she's scratching the furniture or doing something naughty, I pick her up, squeeze her, and give her "discipline cuddles". And, well, Draco Malfoy is basically the human embodiment of a cat, so...here we are! I hope you enjoy.

Dusty morning sunlight streamed in through the old windows of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Harry stretched into it as he woke, deliciously languid and sleepy and warm, his legs tangled up in the thin sheets.

Behind him, a snippy voice announced, “About time you woke up.”

Harry deepened the stretch, groaned in drowsy pleasure as he pushed it along his whole spine. Draco scoffed and tried to swat him away as Harry’s arms and legs invaded his half of the mattress. Harry smirked. He settled on his side, facing Draco, who was a blob in blue silk pajamas while Harry didn’t have his glasses on. A rather lovely blob. “Good morning to you too.”

Draco said nothing. He too lay on his side, facing Harry. Harry stared for a moment, drinking in the sight of him, the soft ethereal colors of him, like a moon beam. In his bed. In the morning.

This was new. Not immediately new. The sex was still relatively new – had only been happening for about a month. The sleeping over, though, was newer. This was only the second time Draco had spent the night, and waking up next to him was still a new enough experience that the sweetness of it took Harry by surprise. He liked this. Merlin help him, he really liked this. So far, for as long as this crazy thing between them had been going on, he had liked everything about Draco, and liked everything about being with Draco. But this part was new, and he really liked it.

After a long moment, in which Harry stared fondly at fuzz-blob Draco through soft, still-sleepy eyes, Draco sighed heavily, sounding thoroughly put-upon. He sat up, grabbed Harry’s glasses off the bedside table, and shoved them onto Harry’s face. The world sharpened into focus. Blob Draco vanished and became regular pointy Draco. And Harry’s stupid sleepy smile widened a little more when he discovered that the fine blond strands of Draco’s hair were all out of place and sticking up in the back, and that he had little yellow crusts in the corners of his eyes.

Those pajamas he insisted on wearing really were fancy, though. Periwinkle blue silk, with buttons up the front of the shirt. The first time he’d seen them, Harry had felt self-conscious of the old t-shirt and loose pair of boxers he always wore to sleep.

Harry gestured to his glasses and said, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it to be nice, Potter.” Draco settled back down into the blankets. “I was scowling at you and your terrible vision prevented you from seeing it properly.”

“Mmm.” Harry nodded. “You are good at scowling.”

“Precisely, yes. I put a lot of effort into the look. Would have been a shame to waste it.”

Draco wasn’t scowling now, though. His eyes were bright and his nostrils flared the tiniest bit, though his mouth stayed strict in an obedient line. Harry was getting pretty good at reading Draco’s face. The look meant he was lightly amused, and holding back a smile. “Have you been awake long? Did you have a good sleep?”

“Not terribly long,” Draco said, but he sounded dramatically inconvenienced. With a small, actual smile, he said, “And yes, I did.”

“Good.” Harry smiled back but didn’t push too far into the sweet, warm feeling that waking beside Draco gave him. Draco tended to shut him out when there were too many feelings. “Do you have plans for today?”

“Shopping with Mother. Maybe dinner. Work on my law school application.” Draco shrugged. “You?”

“Quidditch game with Ron.”

“Ugh.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“What?” Harry demanded to know, though the question was half laugh. In the years after the war, Draco had made amends and was on good terms with Ron and Hermione, and they with him. But Draco was also a high-maintenance person who liked to sneer and turn his nose up – mostly for fun, and also sometimes as a defense mechanism to avoid admitting anything that made him feel vulnerable. Old habits died hard, and though he tried to be on his best behavior he sometimes slipped and made snarky comments about Harry’s friends. About Harry, himself too. The insults had all lost their sharp barbs, were more playful than anything, but Harry always called him out for them. He shook his head and prepared himself to warn Draco off.

“Nothing! Nothing at all!” Draco insisted, his voice and eyebrows jumping high. Harry smirked and waited for the rest of it. It came quickly, when Draco added, “Only a bit puzzled that you’d rather spend the day with the Great Ginger Weasel than stay in bed with me.”

Harry tried not to laugh. Laughing only egged Draco on and made things worse. “Don’t call him that.”

“And let me guess, you’re going to a Cannons game? Ugh. Please. Leave it to Weasley to favorite the worst team in the league. I shouldn’t be surprised, since he has terrible taste in clothes, and families, and everything else!”

“Draco!” Harry snapped, half yelling half laughing. He knew full well that Draco only went on tirades like this because it riled Harry up. This was the point where Harry would normally smack him with a pillow or punch his shoulder and tell him to shut up, but none of that ever worked to get him to stop. He needed a new approach. This time, still laughing, the grin cracking his face, Harry sat up and threw a leg over Draco’s waist before he could think it through.

“Potter!” Draco shouted, indignant, and tried to get away, but Harry straddled him and held him in place. Knees tight to Draco’s sides, Harry lay and pinned Draco down, squished him to the bed beneath his full weight, and trapped his arms between their chests. “Potter! Potter, get off me!”

“No!” Harry nestled his face into the crook between Draco’s neck and shoulder. He clung tight, wrapped Draco up with his whole body, hugged him like a koala bear, and refused to let Draco move. “This is a discipline cuddle,” Harry said into the silk of Draco’s pajama top. “You’re not allowed to enjoy this.”

“I don’t enjoy it!” Draco insisted, but Harry could feel the laughter in his chest. “Now get off, stop crushing me!”

“No, you need discipline! Stop saying mean things about the people I love!”

They stayed stuck together like that for another minute, until Harry shifted enough to let Draco get his arms free. He didn’t immediately use them to try to push Harry away, or revenge tickle him, much to Harry’s surprise. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Harry’s back and pulled him in close. When Draco ran his fingers up and down along Harry’s spine and lightly scratched his back through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, Harry smiled to himself.

This was new. Very new. Casual affection. Snuggling. Very, very new, as in it had never existed between them before this exact moment. And Merlin help him, Harry was falling fast, because he really liked this part too.

*******

A week passed, during which Draco slept over two more times, and Harry spent most days trying to not smile himself silly. Things were going well between them. Ridiculously well. Better than any of the miserable failed relationships Harry had stumbled through in the past. Draco felt right. So right, in fact, that Harry was starting to wonder if he might be…dare he think it? _The one_. Terrible, Harry knew. Embarrassing. He spent half his time with Draco reining himself in and trying not to blurt out anything too sappy before he knew for sure, before Draco was ready to hear it.

As Harry stood at the counter and chopped vegetables for dinner, his floo whooshed open and someone stumbled into the living room. A few seconds and a pattering of polished dress shoes on hardwood later, Draco swept into the kitchen with a look on his face that was half triumph half terror.

Harry smiled at him. “Hi.”

Draco took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, forcing his face more into triumphant territory, his jaw tight and his silver eyes blazing. Voice clipped and even more horrifically posh than normal, he announced, “I did it.”

Confused, Harry blinked, looked him up and down, and then set the knife on the cutting board. “You…did it?”

“Yes!” Draco lifted one eyebrow. His back and shoulders tensed, obviously annoyed and on edge, and he sneered at Harry down along the long cut of his nose. “I did it. Do you have some sort of parasite feasting on that thing in your head you call a brain? Think, Potter! You know what I’m talking about.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared at Draco, although his mouth lifted in a smirk. That was a mean thing to say, but Draco obviously felt vulnerable about something, so Harry could forgive him. What was it, though? He couldn’t remember anything Draco had mentioned that would cause this nervous excitement. “You…did it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his hands still damp and covered in little bits of broccoli. He shrugged and made a guess. “You learned how to suck your own cock, so you don’t need me anymore?”

Draco scoffed and two little patches of pink – annoyance or embarrassment, Harry wasn’t sure – rose on his pale cheeks. “Potter!”

Harry couldn’t help his shit-eating grin. “Well, if you’re not planning to run out on me, then maybe you should be nice to me and use your words and tell me what’s going on.”

“My application! I submitted my law school application.” Draco nearly stamped his foot, which only made Harry grin more. And then, when he finally caught on and realized what Draco was trying to tell him, he grinned the most, and with a much sweeter happiness. With his hands on his hips and his eyes avoiding Harry, he added, “You know, the thing I’ve only been working on for the past month and a half.”

“Draco that’s fantastic!” Harry swept over to him and pulled him into a quick, hard kiss, which did seem to mollify Draco a bit. “I thought it wasn’t due for two more weeks?”

“Yes, well I thought it would look good if I sent it in early.”

“That’s brilliant.” Harry kissed him again. “You’re brilliant. And they’re going to love you. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

“I hope so,” Draco whispered, his eyes and mouth softening. He was worried, Harry knew. He hadn’t had an easy time in the years after the war, and he had worked hard to make something of himself even though so many wanted him to fail. The London School of Magical and Wizarding Law was a dream he’d put off, knowing he’d never be accepted. Now, after so many years of making apologies and keeping his head down and doing good work, the time felt right. Draco wanted something more, and Harry was determined to protect that fragile little bud of hope growing in him.

The honest, hopeful look on Draco’s face was matched in openness by the affection and belief on Harry’s, and he knew the moment was too precious to last. Too real. Too vulnerable for Draco. He would lash out or run away if this stretched on any longer. So Harry broke the feeling by smiling at him and planting a little kiss on the tip of his nose, which Draco immediately scoffed at. He swatted Harry away.

Smiling to himself and nearly overflowing with fondness for the prickly-sweet man he’d fallen for, Harry turned back to the cutting board and continued prepping their dinner. “Yes, well.” Draco cleared his throat and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, trying to put himself back together. “I’m sure I won’t have any trouble getting in. After all, they accepted Granger. Compared to her mediocrity, they’ll welcome the chance to accept a higher caliber student.”

Harry sighed, grit his jaw, and set the knife down on the block again. He pinned Draco with a look over his shoulder. “Did you seriously just call Hermione Granger mediocre?”

“Compared to some.” Draco shrugged, unapologetic and smug. “And she doesn’t even study real, proper law. She’s always going on about creature rights. Centaurs this, and house elves that! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that her feelings towards house elves were a bit…” Draco raised both of his eyebrows in mock scandal and dramatically whispered, “Salacious.”

A bitten back laugh snorted out through Harry’s nose and he silently chastised himself. This was not funny. He should not feed into Draco’s moods when he got like this. “Don’t be crude.”

It was the wrong thing to say, and it only egged Draco on. Voice posh and prim and face completely straight, Draco said, “I’m merely suggesting that, considering the evidence, it seems possible that Hermione Granger wants to fuck a house elf.”

Harry lost it and laughed, torn between angry and terribly amused, but Draco still prattled on, the nasty little prick.

“She’ll probably call off her engagement and run away with Kreacher any day now. Is Weasley’s package particularly small? Because I’ve never understood what she sees in him, but it seems likely that perhaps he has a tiny little willy and it reminds her of the elf she’d rather be wi--”

That was enough of that. Quite enough. Harry lunged across the kitchen and cut Draco’s tirade short by grabbing him and pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“Oof!” The breath huffed out of Draco with the force of Harry impacting into his chest, but he quickly recovered and shouted, “Potter!”

“Discipline cuddles!” Harry pinned Draco’s arms to his sides and wrapped his own arms around Draco’s body as tight as he could get them. “Don’t enjoy this.”

“I don’t enjoy it!” Draco’s voice squealed higher in pitch. “I don’t enjoy it at all, and I don’t know why you keep subjecting me to this humiliation!”

“Because you’re being naughty! Stop saying mean things about the people I love!” Draco huffed and stood tense, utterly trapped in Harry’s crushing embrace, but he didn’t argue any further.

Satisfied with himself, Harry nestled his head against Draco’s neck and held firm for a few long moments. When he felt as if he had made his point, Harry asked, “Have you learned your lesson yet?”

Silence for a moment, and then Draco’s petulant response. “No.”

Harry laughed and squeezed his arms tighter. Draco pretended to hate it but Harry could feel the laughter in his chest.

*******

Sleeping in each other’s beds became a regular occurrence, as did sharing meals, bickering over who should make tea this time, going out with each other’s friends, and trying not to look too pleased when one slipped up and accidentally said something too fond about the other. And discipline cuddles. Through it all, Draco unrepentantly refused to stop taunting Harry’s friends, and so Harry refused to stop squeezing the life out of him whenever he got too out of hand.

Sometimes it happened in public. Like at a pub night with the old Gryffindor crew, when Draco sneered at Seamus and asked, “Do you go out of your way to be a drunken scoundrel in order to pay cultural homage to your ancestors?” Seamus had laughed heartily and raised a glass to toast drunken scoundrel ancestors, but Harry wasn’t about to let Draco get away with the comment. He wouldn’t even make an exception when they were in front of people. He snuck up behind Draco and squished him in a discipline cuddle, right there in front of all their friends. Draco squawked and fought, and everyone laughed until Draco’s cheeks burned bright pink. Harry had thought for sure the public shame would put an end to the mean comments.

But then, the next time they were all together was at the Burrow for dinner, where Ginny joined them directly after Quidditch practice. And she had gotten a rather dramatic new haircut. Though it was startling at first to see her without her long red waves, everyone quickly decided the short, choppy style worked well for her. Everyone except Draco, of course, who took one look, scoffed, and told her, “You look like one of your brothers. Has anyone ever told you, you have terribly boyish hips? It’s no wonder Harry was attracted to you.” So Harry squeezed him tight and held him in place for discipline cuddles while Draco whined and Ginny smacked him with the bristled end of her broomstick.

It was a little while after that Harry had to admit the discipline cuddles were not working as intended. Rather than serving as a deterrent for Draco’s mean comments, they only seemed to incentivize and reward them. Because much as Draco might bitch and complain, he secretly liked it when Harry crushed him with affection. And he seemed to like it especially when Harry wrapped him up in his arms and squeezed him while they were out in public or in front of friends, claiming him for everyone to see. Draco would never admit such a sappy thing, though, and so he had learned how to manipulate Harry into very public snuggles that still kept his Slytherin reputation intact.

Harry had miscalculated and he was being played. He couldn’t quite bring himself to mind.

One weekend, Harry sat at his desk with a mound of paperwork he had brought home from the office. His case reports and briefing documents had built up to unreasonable levels, so he brought the stack home to work through it in his free time.

Draco lounged on the couch and did not take the neglect well.

“Potter. Hey, Potter.”

Harry drew in a deep breath and tried to push down his irritation. He had so much to get done, and this would all go much faster if Draco would only leave him alone for an hour. He blinked hard, fighting against a tension headache behind his eyes, and looked up. “Yeah?”

“You stink,” Draco announced. From his spot lounged out on the couch, he stared at Harry, calm and unblinking, a challenge obvious in the line of his jaw and the press of his mouth. “And your hair is hideous.”

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed as he got back to the document in front of him. “Thank you for your opinion.”

“Wait, Potter, I wasn’t finished.” Draco sat up and scooted closer towards Harry’s end of the couch. “You’re a terrible slob. You never put your laundry in the laundry basket. The other day, I found one of your dirty socks in the kitchen. Only one of them! And in the kitchen, Harry! Who stops to take off one sock and leaves it on the floor of the kitchen?”

Annoyance mixed with twisted amusement in Harry, but he refused to give in and give Draco what he wanted. Calm and stiff, careful to keep his face perfectly blank, he said, “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Draco huffed and dramatically threw himself back against the cushions.

Harry filled in a few more lines of his form, but he wasn’t so naïve to think Draco had given up.

Two minutes of fidgety silence, and then Draco shouted, “Hermione Granger has sexy fantasies about centaurs!”

“Probably.” Harry shrugged and refused to look up from the parchment, though the struggle to remain indifferent was becoming more difficult. “Who doesn’t?”

“I don’t!” Draco insisted, scandalized. Harry fought down a smirk when, a moment later, Draco added in a quiet, dismissive voice, “Maybe once or twice.”

Harry checked a box on the form. Filled in another line.

“Molly Weasley’s treacle tart always comes out dry.”

“It’s not her best dish,” Harry conceded while he pointedly ignored Draco and tried to read the next question he was supposed to answer.

Draco flipped over to lay on his stomach, head perched on the armrest of the couch. In a serious, staged whisper, he said, “I’ve heard rumors that Neville Longbottom is a pervert, that he likes to sneak into the forbidden forest and get naked with thestrals.”

A laugh snorted out of him and Harry pinched his mouth shut to try and hold himself together. He glared at Draco. “I know what you’re doing! I’m not going to humor you. Not this time.”

Draco huffed, slumped against the seat, and crossed his arms over his chest. He sulked for a second, but then brightened and picked himself up. “Fine. I supposed I’ll just have to go find myself a new boyfriend, then!”

Harry leapt up from the desk chair and tackled him back onto the couch. “Discipline cuddle!” They wrestled against each other, laughing and squealing, but Harry quickly won the upper hand and pinned Draco in place with his whole body. “Don’t enjoy this, you naughty little brat.”

Silver eyes bright with mischief, Draco smirked up at Harry and rocked his hips, pressing them even closer together. “No? It feels like you’re rather enjoying it.”

And fuck, he was right. Harry’s cock was already half hard in his jeans. Draco always knew exactly how to rile him up, in every possible way, and had easily stolen the upper hand. Discipline cuddles were a failed experiment. Harry would have to find some other way to curb Draco’s mean comments.

Later. Much later.

*******

When the floo flared open, it momentarily set Harry on edge, but then Draco stepped through and his tension disappeared. Draco was early. Brilliant!

But then a different sort of unease filled him. Draco was early. He had come over nearly two hours earlier than when they had planned to meet, and that was just as unusual and unsettling as it would have been if Draco turned up two hours late. Draco was never late, nor early.

As Harry met him in the living room, he took in the sight of Draco’s disheveled hair, the splotches of color on his cheeks and neck, and the bitter scowl on his mouth. His eyes were wet and glassy, and Harry realized with worry that threatened to spill over into _terrified_ that he had been crying. A hundred awful possibilities flashed through Harry’s mind as he asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jaw tight, not quite able to meet Harry’s eye, Draco whispered, “I didn’t get in.”

Law school. He didn’t get into law school.

All of the worry crashed down in a wave around him and left disappointment and sadness in its wake. He tried to reach for Draco, to touch him, comfort him, but Draco pushed him away.

“How could I be so stupid? I am such a fucking idiot!” Draco paced back and forth across the living room carpet and tore at his hair. The red patches on his face and neck flushed darker, and his eyes glistened with a fresh batch of tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Harry watched, helpless, as Draco shouted and kicked at the furniture. “They wrote me a very politely worded letter to remind me that I am rubbish. And you know what? They’re right! They’re absolutely fucking right! I’m scum! I’m stupid, horrible Death Eater scum and that’s all I’ll ever be!”

Harry’s heart broke into little pieces as he listened to Draco berate and belittle himself. It was awful. The pain was awful, and Harry would do anything to take it away and make it better, but he could not just stand there and listen to someone say hateful, vile things about Draco…especially not when Draco was the one saying them and feeling them.

On the verge of tears himself, Harry carefully walked to Draco, reached out, and wrapped his arms tight around him. His breath ghosting over the skin of Draco’s neck, Harry whispered, “Discipline cuddle.”

“Don’t try that shit on me right now, Potter. I’m not in the mood. Why would you even--”

Harry kissed Draco’s neck. “Don’t say mean things about the people I love.”

And that was new. Because for as long as Harry had felt it, he’d never admitted it out loud before.

Draco stilled. He pulled back to look at Harry, his face still broken and sad, but with something softer too. “Really?”

Harry nodded. “For a while, now.”

It took another second, but then Draco melted into Harry’s arms and let himself be comforted.

Harry held on tight and scratched gentle lines up and down Draco’s back. “It’s absolute shite, that they won’t accept you. Because you’re brilliant, and you’ve worked so hard. I know you’d be better than any other mediocre tosser they brought into that school. I’m so sorry. This makes it very clear that you’ll never get a fair shot in England. But don’t you want to study international law anyway? There are law schools in America, or in France…”

Mumbled against Harry’s shoulder, Draco said, “Yes, but _you’re_ not in America or France.”

A smile stretched Harry’s mouth and squinted his eyes. “So you’re planning to build your life around me, are you?”

“I…” Draco sputtered and cleared his throat. “Well. Yes. I am.”

The simple confirmation took Harry's breath away. It felt like just as momentous of an admission as the one Harry had offered a moment before. It was Draco's way of saying that he loved Harry back.  

Harry loosened his hold on Draco and held both of his hands. “I could be in America or France.”

“Could you?” Draco blinked, wet beads of unfallen tears clinging to his silvery eyelashes. “Well then, I suppose that we could both be there at the same time.”

“Yeah, we could be. Let’s talk about it later?”

Draco nodded. “Could you, uh…” Draco cleared his throat again and his eyes dropped to the floor. Harry felt another admission coming. “I really want you to hold me right now, but I don’t want to say something mean about you. So could you maybe just…could you…could we…?”

Without a word, Harry gently pulled Draco across the room. He sat on the couch, tugged Draco down onto his lap, and wrapped him up tight and safe in his arms. The discipline cuddles had failed, but they were still good for something in the end. Lots more cuddles of the non-discipline variety awaited them in the future, Harry had no doubt. They were on the edge of something new, something brilliant, something forever, and Harry didn’t just like the changes – he loved them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this bit of silly! If you follow my tumblr, you get access to all my weird Harry Potter meta thoughts: http://norelationtoatticus.tumblr.com/


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